


(uncover our heads and) reveal our souls

by taxingme



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: (some), Angst, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, M/M, Pining, and, very minimal though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-15 13:38:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13032297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taxingme/pseuds/taxingme
Summary: Hooking up with Colin is a mistake. Or at least, not a good idea. But it’s always been dumb and Thomas isn’t going to stop now.





	(uncover our heads and) reveal our souls

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tangential_space](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangential_space/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy this!!! This wasn't a pairing I offered but I was so keen to write it because of your prompt so I really hope you enjoy this narrative of them being dev camp hookups to WJC hookups.I had a lot of fun writing this and getting to know a lot more about Colin White because of it! Sorry if it's got more angst than you would like. Sidenote: one day I will finish the three other stories I started for you because you really did give me so much inspiration. I hope you enjoy this very much!! 
> 
> Title is from this [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tf7ddGcxzJ4) which I have never ever listened to but I got strong vibes from the words alone.
> 
> Apologies as I am not from North America so I hope everything makes sense, please let me know otherwise though <3

**December 24, 2016 _Toronto_**  
Hooking up with Colin is a mistake. Or at least, not a good idea. But it’s always been dumb and Thomas isn’t going to stop now. His family left the party ages ago and he only says goodbye to Mat. Ignoring the pointed look as he slips out, popping his collar against the cold wind. It’s fucking cold. Technically no colder than St John. Warmer than Ottawa (not that he cares). 

Colin meets him out the front of the hotel, bright red tinsel wrapped around his neck instead an actual scarf. Thomas thanks the driver and wishes him a Merry Christmas before climbing out to meet Colin. He’s got a big grin on his face. Cheeks flushed from the cold or drinking. Thomas doesn’t even care which. 

“You’re going to freeze out here dressed like this. Don’t they teach you American boys about real winter?” Thomas teases. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Shut up and come up with me.”

Colin rambles in the lift up. Talks about everything and anything, looking at Thomas after every sentence with the same big grin on his face. He giggles when Thomas catches his eye. Widening his grin and taking a step closer to Thomas. A giddy feeling wells up in Thomas’s stomach but before he can do anything about it, the doors open. Colin ducks his head. Then grabs Thomas’s hand and drags him to his door. 

It takes him a couple of tries to get the green light. Thomas starts to freak out, glancing both ways. Expecting one of the doors to open, for Kunin or McAvoy or Terry to step out, jaws dropped and pointing. Then, the door swings open and Colin pulls Thomas in after him. Colin – drunk as he is – messily pushes Thomas back against the door, shoving his tongue past Thomas’s lips. Thomas laughs into it and brings his hands up to cradle Colin’s face. 

“Maybe I should handle this,” he says, holding Colin back with his hands. 

Colin pouts. “I was doing fine, babe. Don’t know what you think this is.”

“How about no,” Thomas says, sliding his hands down Colin’s neck – making sure not to get tangled in the tinsel – and gently pushes his shoulders. Colin takes a step back. Thomas takes a second to appreciate him, the way his clothes hug his muscles making him look even bigger. “Get on the bed, man.”

Colin grins, lecherous and over the top, before walking towards the bed. He tries pulling his shirt off as he goes but is too drunk to figure it out, and ends up stumbling onto the bed where he can pull it off safely. The tinsel comes off with the shirt, awkwardly tangled in the sleeves. Thomas shakes his head. Steps into the room and sees that it’s like every other hotel he’s been in, like the one he and the rest of the team are living in right now. He forces the thought away as he undresses himself. 

Colin has pulled down his zipper and is lazily stroking himself. Thomas rushes, tripping over his pants as he steps out of them. Colin snickers. Thomas flips him the bird before laying down next to him. 

“See, Chabby, I got a handle on this,” he says, emphasising _this_ by waggling his eyebrows. 

“You’re such a loser, oh my God.”

“Don’t even, bro,” Colin says before leaning up to press their lips together. This time he keeps his tongue to himself. Thomas rewards him by swiping his own tongue across Colin’s lips. Colin lets out a small noise. Thomas smiles into the kiss, deepening it to make Colin do it again. Colin is a panting mess by the time Thomas wraps his hand around him. He’s already so close. Thomas rolls himself half on top of Colin, pressing his weight into Colin because he remembers him liking that. Colin groans underneath him and then goes still, finishing all over Thomas’s hand. 

Thomas rolls back onto the bed, wiping his hand on Colin’s abs. Colin squirms under him, bats at his hands like that’s going to stop him. Thomas only laughs and presses the mess deeper into Colin’s skin. 

“Stop it,” he whines. “That’s not even a real fucking kink. It’s just weird.”

Thomas flushes. “It’s not a – what the fuck, Whiter?”

“Whatever, want a blow job or what?” 

And, well – Thomas isn’t going to say no to that. Colin is sloppy, too much spit and no technique. Thomas doesn’t give a shit. His mouth is hot and wet and tight and it’s enough. Thomas is polite and warns him; Colin still swallows. Thomas swears in French. Then in English. He always forgets how good Colin is at this. Colin crawls back up the bed, curling into Thomas’s side. 

“I should go,” Thomas says, not looking at Colin. He makes an agreeing noise, sleepy and quiet but still there. Thomas gets dressed in silence. Colin watches him with heavy eyelids, taking long, slow blinks to keep himself awake. Thomas wishes he would pass out. It’ll be a thousand times less awkward if he's asleep when Thomas leaves. He pats his pockets, checking for his phone and wallet, before looking back to Colin. “Okay, I’m gonna. Go.”

Thomas takes a step towards the door. “Come gimme a kiss,” he hears from the bed. Still sounding as sleepy as the noise before. Thomas sighs. He turns back around, Colin is on his back again just as naked as he was before. He’s no better looking than other guys Thomas has hooked up with, no better looking than some of the guys Thomas sees naked as part of his job. But, there’s something about him. Thomas can’t say no. 

The kiss is soft and sweet. Thomas doesn’t let it last long. He pulls away first, mumbling a quiet “good night” into Colin’s lips. He can feel it when Colin smiles in return. Thomas makes it back to the door before Colin says anything else.

“Hey Chabby,” he says, waiting for Thomas to turn around before continuing. “Merry Christmas babe, hope you wreck Russia.”

 **Summer 2015, _Ottawa_**  
The first time is development camp, fresh from the draft. There are six other guys from the same draft, Colin included. He mostly remembers Colin. Colin with his cute cheeks, funny jokes and sweet eyes. On the last night, the remaining guys get drunk. The two of them are sharing a room – “first round picks always get special treatment,” he remembers one of the older guys chirping them earlier – and it’s easy to stumble back together, relying on one another. Thomas can hear Colin pissing in the bathroom, door left wide open behind him. He gets into bed, not even realising his mistake until Colin comes back. 

“Bud, bud, buddy. This is _my_ bed,” Colin says, climbing in beside Thomas. Thomas disagrees, protesting by shoving at his shoulder. Colin makes an _oof_ noise before rolling into Thomas. The two of them scuffle. And they’ve had too much or not enough and then their dicks are rubbing alongside one another. Thomas gasps, a high breathy noise that is embarrassing as all hell. He flushes bright red. Hoping and praying that Colin didn’t hear. Then –

“You wanna?”

Thomas nods frantically, moving his hips just as fast. They’re both still wearing jeans. It almost hurts to get off like this, but they do. Thomas tries to set a rhythm but it doesn’t work. All he wants is to come. Colin is definitely on board the same train. Panting and gasping, they get there. Thomas first, and then Colin a second later. 

“Shit,” Thomas mutters to himself. He’s sober enough to feel the mess in his pants. He sits up, ignoring the spinning room, to look down at Colin. There have been other guys before, but never team mates. Or potential team mates. He worries for a moment about what Colin is going to say but – he’s fucking asleep. Passed out and nothing close to attractive with his mouth wide open and putrid breath blowing in Thomas’s direction. 

Thomas pulls a face and shuffles out. Colin’s hand is on his stomach and his fingers grip tight, not letting Thomas go, before relaxing. Thomas sighs in relief. He rips his jeans off, boxers too, before settling into his own bed. It’s nothing Colin hasn’t seen before. 

**December, 26 2016 _Toronto_**  
Thomas doesn’t check his phone until after the game. He heard the US won before he went on the ice, crushed Latvia 6-1. Canada doesn’t crush Russia. It’s a sound win. One penalty, one assist for Thomas and a fuck tonne of ice time. All he wants is to sleep. The boys are happy in the room after. Laughing and talking shit. Swinging towels and wet appendages. It’s infinitely better than last year. Coming sixth was, _is_ embarrassing and Thomas knows none of them are over it. He was there too. It was awful. 

His phone is blowing up. His parents who he’ll see after the game anyway, half the guys from the Sea Dogs and guys from last year. And then, a string of messages from Colin.

_Goal C White #18_

_Catch up buddy_

_Slashing? Naughty boy ;)_

_Look at that leadership team go_

The last one is accompanied by a bunch of heart eyes emojis and Thomas can’t help smiling. Someone settles down next to him. Thomas rushes to press the power button. His phone slipping but not quite falling. The messages aren’t incriminating, friendly banter between friends. He just wants to keep them for himself. 

It’s Phil sitting next to him. 

“Talking to friends?” Phil asks in French. Thomas looks around for Stromer who is currently enforcing a ‘no French’ rule. They’re all ignoring it but Dylan can be an ass at the best of times. 

“No one important,” he says. Then, leaning over to wrap his arms around Phil’s neck, presses a kiss to his forehead. “No one more important than my partner.” He keeps pressing kisses into Phil’s head and hair. Relishing in the way he squirms away but doesn’t push Thomas off. Team Canada, baby. Thomas pulls off, pressing one last kiss to the centre of Phil’s forehead. Phil laughs, soft and easy. The same way he does everything. Thomas fucking loves Phil. 

“Hey, the other night you, uh, you came back to the room pretty late. I heard you,” Phil says.

“Oh, that. I was out taking a walk.” 

Phil gives him a look. Thomas tries to look as serious as possible, like he’s not lying out of his ass right now. “You’re allowed to do whatever you want. I know this means a lot to you.”

“Of course it does, I’m taking this seriously. I’m not an idiot.”

“I know that, Chabby. Just – I want you to be smart.”

Thomas glances around the room. He wishes Phil had left this until later, he doesn’t want to talk about this here of all places. The bench underneath him is impossibly hard. “I am. Not going anywhere tonight.”

“Are they busy? Whoever…” Phil starts before Thomas interrupts –

“I told you I was walking. There’s no someone.” 

Phil gives him another look, this one more pitying than sharp. Thomas ignores him. Phil leaves after a moment and Thomas breathes a sigh of relief. It’s not like the boys would care. They all know he knows Colin. Mat – who is for some reason the only one that actually _knows_ – has been teasing him about fraternising with the enemy since Finland.

Back in the hotel, almost all the Q boys are in Thomas and Phil’s room. Barz is here as well, pretending he’s one of them. Dubois and Gauthier are falling asleep on Phil’s bed. Lauz, Jozy, Phil and Mat are playing an elaborate card game. Or a really shitty one. Thomas can't tell which. He's pretending to watch but mostly he’s watching his phone. Waiting for it to light up with messages from Colin. Then he has to wait a chill ten minutes before opening it and replying. 

Nothing to see here. 

Phil keeps looking at him. As if he’s trying to see who Thomas is texting. Thomas puts his phone down, screen facing down, and pays more attention to the game. They’re playing bullshit and adding in ridiculous wagers.

“Three queens… and I’ll buy you all a coffee tomorrow,” Jozy says.

“Booo, that’s too fucking nice man,” Mat counters, shit-eating grin firmly in place.

“Well that’s my bet and you can deal.”

Thomas is about to ask how it works (does Jozy only buy the coffees if they call bullshit? Does the bet carry over?) when his phone starts to vibrate. He looks at Phil first. It’s his turn so he’s too distracted to notice Thomas flipping his phone over. It’s Colin. Thomas looks back up and now it’s Mat looking at him. He gives the universal sign for blow job, tongue literally in cheek and Thomas wants to kill him. 

“I’ve got to take this.”

“Sure you do, buddy,” Mat trills out as Thomas grabs his room key. Thomas flips him the bird and walks out into the hall. 

"What's up?" Thomas says when the call connects.

“Chabby!” Colin yells, truly delighted. Thomas can’t help smiling even if Colin can’t see him. “You were ignoring me.”

“Naw, I just put my phone down. With the boys you know.”

“I do know. I thought you guys would be having a quiet night. Slovakia tomorrow and all that.”

Thomas explains that it was – the two guys falling asleep on one another and the ridiculous card game. He walks up and down the hallway as he talks. Colin talks about what he’s doing too. Then they talk about the games (“An assist isn’t a goal, bud.” “Yeah but I’m on D.”) and Slovakia tomorrow. Thomas promises to give him insider knowledge that he doesn’t have. As if Slovakia is a team Colin needs to worry about. 

He’s not sure how long he stays on the phone. The boys pile out of the room in a group while he's still on the phone. Duber and Jules still half-asleep, Jozy with a jaunty wave, Lauz with quirked eyebrows and Mat with the same shit eating grin he always has. He pumps his eyebrows and leans into the ear that Thomas isn’t holding a phone too.

“Say hello to your boy for me,” he says in French, before smacking a loud kiss against Thomas’s cheek. 

“Who was that?” Colin asks when Mat’s fucked off. His voice sounds off. Tight and small. Or maybe just tinny, it’s hard to know over the phone. 

“No one, only Barz being an idiot,” Thomas says, blushing. Colin is not his boy. 

“Right. Well, I should go. Bye, Thomas,” Colin says, hanging up before Thomas has a chance to say anything. He looks at his phone, mystified. His eyes widen when he sees the time. He rushes back to avoid any coaches yelling at him about curfew. 

**January, 2016 _Finland_**  
Thomas has Colin’s number. Nothing happened after dev camp. Colin never called and neither did Thomas. Boston is a little out of his gossip circle but he never heard Colin talking shit. He tries not to think about it too much. 

Going to Finland is a rush. Thomas still feels like he’s on a borrowed time, always going to be a late inclusion. He feels a step behind. The team is solid – boys that Thomas has played with or against before. In the first couple of days they don’t mesh. O boys and W boys and Q boys sticking to their own groups. Barz swings by them a few times, shitty French on display. The top draft picks all open wounds about being here. 

They get there. Gelling together for the one win. Crushing Denmark – which, does that even count? Losing to Finland is the same as getting sent down. Disappointing but not surprising. Something Thomas could see coming even if it’s not what he wants. 

That night they get drunk. Foreign liquor in a foreign country. Thomas is dumb drunk when he does it. He doesn’t even think about it. Just listens to the phone ring in blissful ignorance then –

“Chabby? What’s up?” 

Of course it’s Colin. Who else would Thomas drunk dial after an embarrassing sixth place finish? He sounds tired like Thomas woke him up. He feels bad for negative three seconds. He wishes he called Colin sooner. 

They talk for ages and Thomas, addled by exhaustion and drinking and losing, somehow ends up in cab. Mispronouncing what little Finnish he learnt trying to get to Colin. Eventually he gets there. Colin is in pjs, soft looking ones, that Thomas wants to cuddle up with. 

“God, is your coach gonna kill me or what?” 

Thomas laughs at him and happily follows Colin to the elevator. He leans against him on the ride up and then slips into the room with him. 

“Roommate?” Thomas thinks to ask. There are two beds and both looked mussed, definitely slept in. But there’s only the two of them here. 

“He, uh, is in with one of the other guys. How drunk are you?”

“Eh, not too drunk. Just want to be with you,” Thomas says, flopping back down onto the bed he hopes is Colin’s. “Hey, hey – come ‘ere. Remember dev camp? I thought it was my bed.”

Colin rolls into bed with him. Pulling off the layers he put on just to greet Thomas. It makes Thomas smile and he rolls into Colin’s arms, pressing a kiss to Colin’s chin. Thomas keeps pressing kisses – wet, sloppy things all over his neck. Colin sighs into it. Thomas isn’t sure how long it takes him but at some point he gets to Colin’s mouth. He’s rock hard in his own pants, lightly thrusting against Colin’s hip.

“Chabby, you sure?” Colin sighs. Thomas kisses him again, the most enthusiastic _yes_ he can manage. Colin twists and then, it’s the two of them thrusting together. Almost exactly the same as last time. Thomas is too drunk and too turned on to last. Finishing in his pants after a few quick, hard thrusts. Colin giggles into his mouth. 

“Hey, I’ll show you,” Thomas says. He pushes Colin onto his back, slotting one of his legs between Colin’s and pressing his weight against his chest. Colin gasps. They kiss like that, deep and intense, for a minute. When Thomas wraps his fingers around Colin it’s meant to be a surprise. Colin’s body tries to jump, shocked by the touch, but Thomas is too heavy on top. Colin groans into the kiss. Pressing up into Thomas’s hand and it’s not long before he’s going still and finishing too. 

Thomas enjoys the afterglow. Cuddled up to Colin's chest and sighing. He wipes his hand on the bed sheet and rolls off Colin enough to make sure they’re both comfortable. His eyelids are heavy and Thomas is ready to sleep. 

“Shit, you need to get outta here before your coach kills me.”

 **December 31, 2016 _Toronto_**  
The night before the game, Colin messages him. Thomas ignores him. Everyone is freaking out about the game. This is _the game_ before the finals. Russia is always important but this is the fucking US. The team that went home with bronze when Canada went home with nothing. The team they will (probably) face in the final. Thomas is trying not to think about it. 

Mat is pretending to be chill. As if he didn’t spend twenty minutes rambling about revenge and poetic justice to Thomas earlier. Duber looks like he’s going to be sick. Stromer looks like he died, went to hell, got revived and is ready for death again. All Thomas wants is to play the game. 

So, he ignores Colin. 

It’s just another game the two of them are playing. 

The actual game is, well, shit. Colin – _of fucking course_ , Thomas has a moment to think – opens the scoring on a shitty power play. Then there’s another one. Canada plays the rest of the period contained. Contained rage, contained pain, contained hockey. Thomas is only on the ice for Colin's goal. The PK letting him get away with easy shit. Leaving Ingram out to dry. 

The second period starts and Phil is in the boards. Thomas is ready to fucking kill Kunin. He gets tossed out; Phil limps off. They are all raging on the bench. McAvoy goes in the box and 5 on 3 and then – Thomas scores. Stromer to Barz to Thomas. 

“Look at that leadership go,” Thomas chirps Colin when he skates past. Colin bares his teeth. Mat tells him to settle down. 

Thomas maybe, possibly, definitely spoke too soon. Bracco scores not even five minutes later and that’s it. Both goalies shut the door. Thomas is on the ice for that one too. Off the ice, Dylan gives a nice speech. Tells them it’s one game and one game means shit. Next time when it matters they'll be able to win. It’s while he’s talking that they find out about Phil. Definitely a concussion, unlikely to get back on the ice. Not just the next game but the whole tournament. 

A white, hot rage fills Thomas’s eyes. He wants to hit something or break a stick over his knees. He thinks about it for a second, considers the weight and how much it will hurt to snap it over his leg. He settles for knocking his head back against the back of his stall. Fuck Kunin.

There’s something in the air while they all shower. Sticky and dense. As intense as the rage Thomas felt before. Then Thomas hears someone mutter – probably Clouder because it almost always is – “Jesus, it’s not a fucking funeral.” Thomas bites down a giggle. He starts shaking his head under the water, trying to push away the half-hysterical, half-confused bubble of laughter that’s trying to come out.

Then Stephens laughs. From the back of the showers, loud and open and fucking delighted. It sets them all off. Thomas tries not to get too lost in it, one foot grounded in the truth of the situation. But Stromer smacks him with a wet towel. They share a smile and then Thomas is off again. The tension snaps around them. Disappearing down the drain with the sweat and misery of the game. 

They’re going to be fine. 

There’s a text waiting from Colin when he gets back to the hotel. _Hope Myers is okay_. Thomas clenches his fist around his phone. Dropping it onto Mat’s bed and wishing he was in his own room. Phil is in their shared room resting and Lauz wanted to sit with him for a bit. He looked totally wrecked when he asked. Thomas didn’t have the heart to say no. 

“My shirts aren’t as nice as yours I’m sure but you can pull anything off,” Mat says, pulling shirt after shirt out of his case. Thomas rolls his eyes. At the comment and the choppy French. Thomas privately thinks it’s good for Mat to not be perfect at everything he tries. He’s annoying enough. 

“We’re going to be in the back room of a restaurant. As a team, not sure who you want me to impress any way.”

“Ah, of course, your boy is on the wrong team,” Mat says. Then he makes a triumphant noise. He holds a pastel blue shirt with a white collar up against Thomas’s chest. “Put this one on.”

“Can you stop saying that?” Thomas says. 

Mat goes to say something else when the door opens, Jozy walking in. He looks at them curiously – Thomas with a shirt off, Mat with his hair half done and clothes everywhere. Thomas blushes. Mat lost his charm after they played together once but Thomas gets how this looks. 

Mat holds his hand before Jozy can say anything. “Trust me Jozy, I tried. This man is most definitely taken.” 

“Hey,” Thomas objects. 

“Oh, are we talking about that? I thought no one knew,” Jozy says, a relieved smile on his face. Thomas pulls a face – alarmed that Jozy might know anything. Thomas has been pretty quiet about Colin. Careful about the stories he shares. He’s not ashamed but there’s a certain level of tact required. 

“You don’t know anything,” Thomas says. Worried that his skin is either too pale or too red. He’s too numb to feel anything right now. 

“Sick Game of Thrones reference, nerd,” Mat says, clearly delighted with how this is going. “It’s pretty obvious what with the constant texting. Or is that a new development?”

Thomas tries to object again but Jozy beats him to it: “Not new, not even close. All season, man. And even last year, after Finland.”

Mat laughs, delighted, and Thomas grumbles around his breath. Assholes the lot of them. He focuses on doing the buttons up. One after the other, meticulous with his efforts to line the correct button up with the correct hole. He’s distinctly aware that he’s uncomfortable. Nervous. Colin is a secret for a lot of reasons. None of which Thomas wants to talk about. A weight settles next to him on the bed. Thomas is done with the buttons. He keeps fiddling with the top one.

“I thought it was Barz,” he says. Thomas’s head snaps up. His eyes meet Mathieu’s, confident and cool like they always are. An uncertain smile spreading across his face. Barz is losing it on the other bed, full body laughing like he’s never heard anything funnier in his life. 

“God, no,” Thomas manages to wheeze out. As if to emphasise the point, Thomas’s phone beeps at him from where he left it on the bed. 

_Don’t be a dick_

Thomas pulls a face, not sure what he’s supposed to say. Mat and Jozy start talking around him. Mat is still laughing at Jozy and Jozy’s defending himself. Thomas tunes them out. He doesn’t want to hear what he was doing that made Jozy think he was dating _Mathew Barzal_ of all people. Thomas cringes at the thought. He’s not sure what to say to Colin. He knows he has to say sorry, for ignoring him at least, but Thomas isn’t ready yet. 

Thomas is ready to get fucking drunk. 

When the countdown starts, Thomas still hasn’t messaged him back. His phone is in his back pocket, hot and heavy. Weighed down by the guilt. Thomas takes another drink and ignores it. The party – if you can call it that – is fairly tame. They’re in the back room of a restaurant two blocks from the hotel. The coaches and restaurant sorted out a two drink limit. But Clague, Jost and Nico all brought flasks. Thomas honestly and truly loves these boys. 

Thomas’s vision is going hazy. Pleasantly blurred by his two drink quota and God knows how many sips from the three flasks. Lauz is sitting in one of the booths, Dubois and Gauthier on either side trying to cheer him up. The two goalies have been in the middle of a staring contest since they got here, having quiet sips when one of them blinks. 

Thomas is in a circle with Mat, Stromer, Clouder and Stephens. They’re all screaming the numbers, Clouder is right in Thomas’s face, bad breath and all. They all scream when it finishes too, fucking ready for 2017. Thomas turns slightly, not even sure what he’s looking for, when Mat kisses him. It’s showy and over the top – too much tongue to be anything other than a joke. 

Everyone’s laughing, even Thomas. Mat pulls back grinning. Thomas wipes the back of his hand over his mouth, feigning disgust. Then, before turning back to everyone else, he pats Thomas’s ass where his phone is and gives him a pointed look. Eyebrows raised in mock stern. Thomas rolls his eyes. Mat pokes him in the chest before turning to the group and pouting his lips in an exaggerated kiss.

“Who’s next?” he yells and in the ensuing chaos to get away from drunk Mat, Thomas slips out to the front of the restaurant. Thomas shivers as he waits for Colin to pick up. Hoping and praying that he will. There’s a huge burst of noise on the other end and then –

“Chabshow! I thought you were ignoring me.”

Thomas can’t help smiling. He just, he really likes the sound of Colin’s voice. High and full of laughter because he’s been drinking. It reminds Thomas of Christmas Eve, of giggling their way up an elevator and falling into bed together. Reminds him of drunkenly rutting against one another the first time. Of their night together in Finland. Thomas misses him.

“Only a little. Happy New Year.”

“And happy New Year to you too, babe,” Colin says. There’s another loud burst of noise. Thomas pulls the phone away, annoyed. He hears Colin say something and brings it back up. Thomas hears a loud bang and then it’s just the sound of Colin breathing. “Sorry, drinking with the boys in the hotel. Out in the lobby now.”

“I’m freezing my ass off in downtown Toronto.”

“For me?” Colin asks, aiming for coy and missing by a mile. 

“You know it, honey buns,” Thomas says, aiming for joking and missing by a mile. He’s not too sure what to say afterwards. He’s been entirely too honest. No sane, sensible person would stand outside five minutes into the New Year in the cold, biting wind of Toronto. Love’s a bitch like that. 

“Chabby?” Colin asks, waiting for an agreeing noise from Thomas before continuing. “How are you feeling about that deal?”

“Shit,” Thomas says, scrubbing a hand over his face. He’s been trying not to think about the deal. “We still don’t know what’s going to happen next year.”

Colin sighs. Thomas knocks his head back into the brick wall behind him. At this point he’s not sure why he’s saying no. This made sense at development camp. “Okay, Thomas. That wasn’t the deal but I’m gonna – I’m gonna go back to my boys. You go back to yours. Just, I really want to try, okay? Don’t forget that. Have a good night.”

He hangs up. Thomas sighs again. Looking at the call log one last time, he pockets his phone. 

**Summer, 2016 _Ottawa_**  
Thomas is nervous coming into Dev Camp. He’s been talking to Colin on and off throughout the season, not about what happened in Finland or last year. But, talking. Colin tells him about wanting to play at BC his whole life, watching his sister graduate and how both his parents were college athletes too. In turn, Thomas talks about growing up with his brother and watching hockey games with his grandma. Sometimes Colin asks him to say it all in French.

(“Come on, I was drafted to Ottawa. I need to brush up on my French.”

“Brush up?” Thomas snorts, knowing that Colin is talking out of his ass.

“Oui, je suis speak all the French” Colin says with a laugh.)

But neither of them have mentioned the other stuff. The making out and the dry humping. 

They’re sharing a hotel room again – two beds, one chair, four walls and a bathroom. Four days into camp they’ve had sex against every surface in the room. Including the shower (which, Thomas does _not_ recommend – they’re both lucky they didn’t break anything). Colin has a ridiculous talent for blow jobs and never shuts up unless he’s about to come. 

It’s not until the last night that they actually talk. Thomas has already been invited to training camp and he’s half freaking out and half jumping like a kid. He’s wanted this for so long. Colin’s probably not staying. He’s doing good but not great. If Thomas can see the work he has to put in, it means the coaches have definitely seen it. 

“You know, I’m pretty excited to go back to college,” Colin says. The two of them are laying in his bed, naked under the covers. Thomas is still recovering from the best blow job he’s ever had. Thomas makes a non-committal noise. Not sure what the right thing to say is. Colin nudges him. “It’s okay that you’re staying and I’m not. It’ll be both of us one day.”

“I’m so fucking scared, man. What if I have to play with fucking Karlsson or something? That guy’s a freak.”

Colin presses his lips to the top of Thomas’s head. Thomas sighs into it. He’s just, he’s so happy Colin is here with him. That they can talk about this and he doesn’t have to worry about being overly confident. That the two of them fucking doesn’t ruin their friendship. 

“You’re gonna be fine. And if not, I’ll see you in December.”

“Oh, right, forgot about that.”

“It’ll be fun, would be cool to see you in Montreal. Get you all Frenchy and cute.”

Thomas thinks for a moment before answering. He’s not sure what to say. It’s not like they’re dating. Even if Thomas ends up at Worlds – and god he hopes he doesn’t – it’s not like he’ll be going out of his way to talk to Colin. He’ll be the enemy. Or something a little less dramatic. “We probably wouldn’t have time. If I’m there.”

“Why not? There’s a lot of down time. I could make time for you.”

“Why?” Thomas blurts out before he can think better of it. Colin pulls back. Thomas sits up and turns to look at him. The sheet pools at their waists, Thomas doesn’t know where to look. The relaxed feeling from two seconds ago is gone. 

“Well,” Colin says, slowly. “I really like you and I’d like to see you if we were in the same place.”

“Oh.”

There’s an awkward pause. Neither of them look at one another, Thomas kind of wants to put on a shirt. His eyes flick to Colin – there’s stubble burn on Colin’s neck and teeth impressions up and down his chest. Thomas can vividly remember putting them there. The way Colin had arched into his mouth. 

“Um, do you – do you not like me?” Colin asks, blush high on his cheeks. 

“We’re friends,” Thomas says. 

“Thomas. You know that’s not what I mean,” Colin says, voice stern. 

“I know, I just, I hadn’t really thought about it,” Thomas says, voice rising at the end like he’s asking a question. English feeling awkward on his tongue like it hasn’t in years. He’s not sure how to fix this without ruining what they have. 

Colin makes a _hmm_ noise, clearly thinking. Then he reaches out for Thomas’s face, turning it so they can look into one another’s eyes. Thomas can’t help smiling, soft and goofy. Colin's eyes are a deep brown colour that Thomas loves. 

“I’ll make you a deal?” he asks, still looking into Thomas’s eyes. Thomas nods dumbly. “Whenever I see you next – World Juniors or training camp or whatever, you can tell me how you feel. Sound fair?”

Thomas nods again. He’s been working towards goals his whole life. Play hard, train hard, work hard to make it into the NHL. Whatever it takes to get what he wants. He’s not sure if he wants Colin yet. Or if he only wants Colin sometimes. But he can figure it out. He has a deadline and a goal. He can fucking do this. He holds his hand out to shake – 

“Deal.”

 **January 3, 2017 _Montreal_**  
Colin doesn’t text him after that. Thomas never realised how much they did until he stops hearing back. It's hard not to miss him. 

_Sorry_ is all he says the next day. Colin reads it five minutes later. He never texts back. 

Thomas is too embarrassed to try again the next day. Colin was always easy. Not, not like that – just, easy to talk to and be around. He makes Thomas laugh and forget about everything that’s worrying him. Colin keeps him grounded but still talks him up so much. Thomas feels like he’s been dumped. 

He doesn’t mope – fuck you very much Barz – but he isn’t quite himself. Too into hockey, 25 minutes and counting against the Czech Republic. After the game he stays in his room. Keeps Phil company without making the concussion worse. Lauz is there more often than not, the three of them speaking in soft French to keep Phil distracted. 

It’s in the room, listening to Lauz and Phil’s inside jokes that Thomas realises he’s maybe been ignoring the team. Not _ignoring_ them but not giving them everything he has. He's held back enough that he's fucked up. Nausea wells up in his stomach. A thick knot forms in his throat. 

“Have I been a bad ‘A’?” he blurts before the punch line to the latest story. 

“No,” Lauz says, sounding confused. Phil shakes his head, a barely there motion that still makes him pull a face. 

“I just, I feel like I’ve been ignoring everyone.”

The other two share a look and Thomas is reminded so intensely of his parents he wants to laugh. If he didn’t feel so sick to his stomach he would. “You’ve been a little, uh, off the past couple of days I guess. But you’re solid on the ice and good in the room. The past couple of days…” Lauz trails off. Thomas raises his eyebrows. 

“You seem sad,” Phil says. Quiet because he has to be but also because he seems nervous. He’s not quite looking at Thomas and Thomas gets it. Most guys don’t like to talk about this shit. 

“Oh.”

“Do you, um, want to talk about?” Lauz asks.

Thomas opens his mouth to say “No, no. God please, no” but then he thinks about it. The only person he’s talked to this about is Mat. And Thomas loves Mat, would die for him on the ice, but he’s not exactly emotionally aware. He flirts his way through everyone he meets and leaves them behind in the wreckage without realising. 

“If you guys don’t mind?” Thomas asks. They both nod and Thomas takes a deep breath. He’s not sure where to even begin. “So, um. I’ve been seeing someone, sort of but like, not really.”

“What does that even mean, Chabby?” Lauz says at the same time Phil says “What the actual fuck Chabshow?”

“Fuck you both,” Thomas says, throwing a pillow at Lauz and laughing. “Fine – I slept with someone once and nothing happened. Then when we were together again it happened. Then we became friends and kept fucking.”

“Oh, you’re pining. Easy solve – just talk to them,” Phil quips. 

“What? No. No, actually, I think he was,” Thomas says, coughing a little over the pronoun. He’s pretty sure they both know about him but it is still nerve wracking. “So we made a deal, right? Next time we saw each other we would talk about our feelings. But I'm pretty sure I fucked it up and I don’t know how to fix it. He’s been ignoring me for a couple of days.”

“I knew there was someone!” Phil says, triumphant. Thomas pulls a face at him, rolling his eyes because _duh_. Lauz shakes his head at both of them. 

“Phil wasn’t wrong about the other thing though. You’re going to have to talk to him. It’s the only way you’ll be able to figure out if you still have a chance.”

“Yeah,” Thomas sighs. “I figured but it’s – shit’s all complicated and it’s not meant to be this hard.”

“No but, uh, can we ask who it is?” Lauz asks, rushing to add. “You don’t have to say of course! But it kind of sounds like it’s someone on the team.”

Thomas groans. “Please don’t say you think I’m dating Barz too, one person thinking that was enough.”

Lauz stifles a laugh. His stupid little face lighting up with it as he shoves it into his hands. His whole body shakes and Phil pats him on the back. A small smile spreading over his own face. Thomas hates them both. 

“It’s not fucking Barz, I hate you all. And I’m never talking to him again because this is dumb,” he says. Then he swallows and much more quietly adds: “It’s Whiter. Colin White.”

“Ouch, shit luck bro,” Phil says. Lauz smacks his thigh, shooting him a look. Thomas can’t help smiling even if it is shit luck. He’s lucky to have these boys. 

“I mean, he’s not wrong. But - do you like him?” Lauz asks. 

“I mean, I think so but he _really_ likes me and he was sad the other night. New Year’s, I think I ruined everything.”

“Chabby, you’re basically perfect. You couldn’t ruin shit if you tried,” Phil says. Thomas shrugs, a blush spreading over his cheeks. None of them deserve Phil. “I’m serious. If you made a mistake apologise and then wait for him to come back. If he likes you as much as you think everything will work out.”

Thomas isn’t sure he believes him, but it’s all he has right now. He can wait for Colin as long as he has to. He’s still not sure what will happen if they play for gold or if Colin is going to be okay with him after the other night but he can hope. Nothing wrong with hoping. 

**November, 2016 _Saint John_**  
Thomas only plays one game for the Senators. They keep him up and don’t play him. Then – so long, good bye, you’re not quite ready for this just yet. So, back to Saint John he goes. Strome texts him first:

_Fuckin sucks_

Mat barely a minute later:

_We coming for you gold_

The last thing he’s thinking about is World Juniors but, well, he hasn’t got anything else to look forward too. He texts them both back with the same thing:

Three Canadian flags in a row.

Fucking gold baby. 

**January 5, 2017 _Montreal_**  
The night before the game, Colin calls him. Thomas is in Mat and Jozy’s room, the three of them keeping each other calm. Thomas is laying next to Mat on his bed and Jozy is on his own. None of them are saying anything but it still helps. Thomas lets the phone ring out, not sure if talking to Colin is the best idea right now. But he wants to so bad. That late night call in Toronto feels forever ago. 

“You know you’re being an idiot,” Mat says. Jozy makes an agreeing noise. 

“Probably. But – I mean, is it really the best idea?” 

“No,” Mat snorts. Then he holds up a finger – “But, it’s never been a great idea and you keep doing it. And he makes you stupid happy so who gives a fuck.”

“What he said,” Jozy says. 

Thomas looks at them both and decides, _fuck it_. They’re right, Colin makes him happy. All things considered they might never play against one another ever again. There’s a very real chance that both of them will be up next year. Thomas imagines it – being together on their birthday, teaching Colin French for real, playing beautiful hockey together. The only thing Thomas wants more is gold. He slips out into the hallway and waits for Colin. Ignoring Mat’s lecherous grin and suggestive comments. 

“Sorry, I missed your call,” he says once Colin answers. 

“That’s okay. I kinda, well, to be honest I thought you wouldn’t answer. Shit’s been weird,” Colin sounds, not _nervous_ , but uncertain. Like he thinks Thomas won’t want to talk. Thomas guesses that’s fair. 

“It’s weird because of me,” he says. Colin hums on the other end and Thomas knows he has to explain it better. “It’s just, I mean. I thought I would have a whole year to figure out what I wanted. I didn’t want to come back here, I wanted to be up. And now, now I’m here and it’s not what I wanted at all.”

Thomas hasn’t said that to anyone else. He loves playing for Canada and he loves all these guys. But he really fucking hates this. It was never part of the plan. He thought he was going to make it, he was meant to make it. He's supposed to be a Senator right now. Finland hurt but being sent back down hurt just as much.

“I didn’t think about it like that. I kind of, you know, just thought you were letting me down easy.”

“No!” Thomas says, voice too loud and sudden in the echoing hallway. He really shouldn’t be having this conversation here, where anyone could walk in. He slides down the wall and sits instead. He’ll be fine. “I do, God, this sounds so stupid. But I do like you. A lot. It’s just,” Thomas trails off. He wants Colin to get this without him saying it. 

“Hockey?”

“Sort of. More tomorrow we’re playing each other for gold.”

“And?” Colin sounds unsure. Like he doesn’t know what this means to Thomas. Or maybe he does and he doesn’t want this to be the end. Thomas sure as hell doesn’t. 

“Will you be able to forgive me when we win?” he asks, slip of the tongue more than anything. The US are good, great even, Thomas has no idea how tomorrow will go. He knows more than anyone that playing for Canada doesn’t mean shit. Finland was only five minutes ago for him. 

“Jesus, cocky much? But I don’t know, babe,” Colin says before sighing. Thomas gets it. It shouldn’t be this hard to get a boyfriend. “You gonna be able to forgive me?”

Thomas doesn’t even have to think. He knows the answer as easy as he remembers Finland. 

“No.”

“Well, shit.”

“I know and I just, I really want to say yes. I want to say it doesn’t matter because it shouldn’t but – I can’t. This matters so fucking much, Colin. Sorry but I need to win.”

“Don’t apologise for that,” Colin says, fierce and intense. “You can apologise for being a dick and ignoring me but don’t apologise for wanting to win. I want to win too. I get it.”

“But what does that mean for us?” Thomas says, wishing he had something better to look at than the ugly carpet and boring taupe walls. 

“No way to know until after the game,” Colin says. Thomas wishes he had a better answer. Wishes he had all the answers. Thomas doesn’t want to have to figure this out for himself. He’s used to everyone else deciding for him. Telling him who to be. He can’t figure this out alone. “Just – I want you to remember how much I want this, okay? Whatever happens tomorrow I’m still going to want this.”

Thomas sucks in a breath between his teeth. “Okay. And you,” Thomas swallows. “You know I want this too. Whatever happens tomorrow it’s not because of you.”

It doesn’t fix everything but it’s enough. Thomas goes back to his room. Lauz is cuddled up behind Phil, answering a question Thomas hadn’t asked. He lets them sleep. By the time he gets himself in bed there’s another text from Colin. Three emojis – one red heart, one blue heart and an American flag – and Thomas can’t help laughing. He sends back his own message – one maple leaf.

Thomas loves his boys. They can do this. 

As it turns out, they can’t do it. They’re so fucking close – pushing and rushing and playing. Thomas opens the scoring – slams it home off of Barz’s stick and he wants to shove it in Colin’s face. Look at the leadership go. He feels real fucking good until Bellows ties it in the second. Dylan, Mat and Thomas are all loud in the break. Yelling and hustling and getting it working again. 

It fucking works. Nico tips it in on the power play (thanks Bellows) and they’re all feeling so solid. Thomas gets the second assist on Jozy’s goal, the five of them crashing together in a chorus of screams. They’ve fucking got this. 

Thomas is on the ice when Colin equalises it. Watches the USA boys swarm together, hates them as he hears them scream. They get two power plays, in the third and OT, and they _still_ can’t score. Parsons isn’t letting shit behind him. Thomas wants to yell. There’s a tight, pinched feeling in his stomach as the shootout starts. He’s mad that this is how it ends. A gold medal, the perfect redemption for last year, decided by fucking luck.

Thomas watches Terry’s goal in horror. He’s never going to forget it as long as he lives. He can’t look at Colin in the hand shake line. He feels hollow, empty and laid to bare on the ice. Forty minutes of his life only for it to end like this. 

Silver’s never felt so heavy.

Thomas doesn’t cry in the room. A lot of the other boys do. Thomas looks away. They all do. No one needs to see this. Stromer spends a few minutes with each guy. Some he just sits next to, totally silent. He pulls Carter into his chest. Thomas doesn’t hear what he says but he can guess. They all love him so much. 

“None of this is your fault,” is what Dylan says to him. Thomas chooses not to answer. Dylan claps him on the shoulder, digging his fingers into the muscles there. It hurts so fucking much. He’s so exhausted. He wants to sleep and never wake up. He needs to get the fuck out of here. 

Thomas is too sad to drink once they get back to the hotel. They all are. They’re crammed into Stromer’s room, passing around a flask without taking a drink and sitting in almost silence. Lauz and Phil are on the bed; Phil looks worse than the rest of them combined. Thomas hopes he doesn’t blame himself. Thomas hears his phone go off and ignores it. 

It doesn’t matter who it is. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone but the boys in this room. 

**Summer 2017, _Ottawa_**  
Colin signs a contract in April. Thomas sends him the confetti emoji and every different money one there is. Colin sends back a couple of smiley faces. It’s the first time they’ve talked since the game. Thomas wishes he knew what to say back. He misses Colin. Misses talking to him and his stupidly cute smile. The way his cheeks flush when he drinks and how he always calls Thomas ‘babe’ even though Thomas hated when his ex did it. 

The point is Thomas misses him. He knows he fucked it up but he doesn’t know how to make it better. All he knows is that he has to try. He doesn’t want to lose Colin again. 

The night before the Mem Cup starts, Colin says _good luck_. Thomas sends back _thanks_ and asks about Colin’s summer. He doesn’t get an answer till the next day, all it says is _good_ but at least it’s something. Thomas has had a shit day. No one wants to start the round robin with a loss, second star of the game be fucking damned. The next day Thomas wakes up and there’s another message – _nice goal_. 

Thomas has a smile for the rest of the day. 

They don’t win. The fucking Spitfires do and Thomas feels worse for the other guys than for himself. He has visions of the Sens calling him up. Walking onto the team and replacing his captain playing with a broken foot, single-handedly winning them the series. Wishful fantasy. 

Colin sends him a bunch of sad face emojis that Thomas sees in the bus. Back to Saint John and then back home for real. He’s already planned all his training, figuring out what he needs to do to make it. He hasn’t been busting his ass off all year to play in Belleville.

He starts texting Colin more when he’s training. Part ‘I can lift more than you’ and part ‘please let us get back to where we were before.’ Thomas tells him about training with Patrice Bergeron and how he’s learning to put on muscle and still stay fast. Colin talks to him about fucking around in Boston and the week or so where he let himself eat whatever he wanted.

It reminds Thomas of last year. After Finland when they would text all the time, learning about one another. It makes Thomas feel like an idiot. How did he not know? Colin is the first person he thinks of in the morning. The only person he want to tell when Bergeron compliments his skating. The guy he thinks about while jerking off. The reason why Thomas is so excited for dev camp this season. 

On the day, seeing him ends up being anticlimactic. Exactly the same as the past two years; they’re in the same hotel and still rooming together. The first day is all welcome back and standard tests and “how do you feel?” with the coaches. He and Colin share two words exactly the whole day which are “good night.” The two of them passing out as soon as they get in bed. 

The next night they get dinner. Thomas picks the place and pretends that he didn’t research restaurants in Ottawa for it. Colin’s eyebrows raise when he sees what Thomas is wearing, making him shuffle his feet self-consciously. Colin lifts his hand, which spasms in Thomas’s direction, and then lowers it. Wordlessly, Colin changes his shirt. 

The restaurant has a wall of wine bottles and serves tiny portions of food on massive white plates. Thomas orders for them in French. Trying hard to look serious as he picks out a wine for each of them. The waiter can definitely tell he’s never done this before. Colin can too. He has a small smile on his face like he wants to laugh. He’s also picking at his nails, something Thomas knows is a nervous habit, and his eyes are flitting between Thomas’s eyes, lips and fingers. Thomas wants to kiss him. 

“This is a date, right?” Colin asks once the waiter has left. Thomas waits before answering. Not to be a dick but because he’s nervous. What if he doesn’t want this anymore? 

“Um, yes?” Thomas says, voice pitching up at the end like he’s asking a question. He coughs and repeats himself. More sure this time. It is a date because he wants it to be. He just hopes he’s not too late. Colin slumps in his chair like a marionette with the strings cut. Thomas couldn’t even see that tension before. 

“Okay. Okay, that’s –“ Colin’s eyes are wide and his mouth is open, obviously surprised. “Holy shit, I didn’t expect this like, at all. Are you serious right now? I can’t do what happened at World Juniors again. You ignored me for _months_ , Thomas.”

“I know. I fucked up and I’m sorry. Really. And I, I want to do this properly. Hence – date,” Thomas says, desperately ignoring the blush on his cheeks. 

“Thanks for, you know, saying that. I guess. Um, I thought – does this mean you forgive me?”

Thomas waits to answer him again. Partly because the waiter is giving them their food, partly because Colin deserves an honest answer. He’s been thinking about this since the game. He assumes Colin has too. 

“I’ve never wanted anything as much as I wanted that medal. Like, maybe the NHL? But after Finland and not making the team just, all I wanted was that stupid medal. And it,” Thomas stops mid-sentence. Biting back the angry feeling that wells up in his teeth whenever he thinks about it. “It hurts so fucking much to look at you right now. Not like, you, exactly. But every time I see you, I see Troy fucking Terry ruining everything. And, yeah, to be honest? It fucking sucks. So fucking much.”

Thomas pauses because that was a lot. He can talk and Colin knows that, but that was a lot even for him. He needs to breathe for a second. He takes a bite of his salmon, wishing he got steak like Colin. He washes it down with the wine. (He takes a moment to thank the waiter because this probably isn’t what Thomas ordered and it pairs super well with the fish.) 

Colin still hasn’t said anything. 

“But, I really like you. And I’ve missed you so much, missed talking to you and seeing you and I seriously haven’t thought about anyone else in months. So, um. If you still want? I still want to as well.”

Thomas fidgets while he waits. Twitching in his seat. Occasionally having a bite or gulping down his wine. He wants Colin to say yes. To say “fuck it, let’s get out of here” and go back with Thomas to the room so they can finally fuck again. Or at least cuddle. Spend some time getting to know one another again. 

Thomas misses him. Thomas wants him. 

“You know, the guys kept giving me shit at Worlds. Like, non-stop fucking trash talking the shit out of me because I wouldn’t shut up about you. But then you were all weird and they wanted me to drop you so bad but I couldn’t. Because you’re a really good guy? Underneath all that bullshit I know you're a good guy. And you make me happy.”

“I still make you happy, like, present tense?” Thomas can’t help asking. A hopeful smiling tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Present tense, babe.”

Thomas sucks in a breath. Colin looks like he’s doing the same. His eyes flick to Thomas’s lips before returning to his eyes. It’s so hot. “You wanna get out of here?”

Colin licks his lips. Then nods. Then they’re getting the fuck out of there. 

Thomas doesn’t remember the trip back to the hotel. There’s tension thick in the air in the elevator but Thomas can’t touch him yet. If he reaches for Colin now they won’t stop. Thomas has been waiting months to get his hands back on him. He's not stopping once he starts. In the room the strip naked, still not touching, and then fall into bed together. There’s a moment where neither of them move and then –

They kiss, hard and bruising. Thomas moans into it, rolling Colin onto his back so Thomas can settle over him. Thomas is already so hard. He gasps when their dicks line up, cursing that this is going to be over in a second. 

“Shit, shit, shit. If you want more we gotta stop,” Colin gasps.

Thomas thinks about it. Pulling his hips away – ignoring Colin’s whine – and actually thinking. With his brain. But then his hips stutter, still looking for friction and that’s all she wrote. 

“Fuck it, I want to come all over you right fucking now.”

They both groan. Too loud for a hotel that has teammates on the other side of the wall but Thomas can’t help himself. It barely takes five minutes for them to finish like this. Rubbing their bodies together and kissing. Everything about it is rough and intense. Thomas brain whites out as he comes. Best orgasm of his life, hands down. 

“Sorry to ruin your romantic dinner.”

“You should be, I spent five minutes on Yelp to find that place,” Thomas says with a laugh. Pressing a kiss into Colin’s neck, he slides back onto the bed with his head pillowed on Colin’s collar bone. He’s missed him so much. 

“Hm, got what you wanted in the end,” Colin says. He sounds wary like he still thinks Thomas is going to fuck this up. Or leave. 

“I want you to be my boyfriend so I don’t know, you tell me.”

Colin doesn’t react outwardly. He seems exactly the same as two seconds ago. But Thomas can feel his heart rate, he knows how excited that makes Colin. He can’t help smiling and he sits up to kiss Colin on the lips. It’s soft, a lot softer than the kisses they were sharing before. They’re both smiling. 

“I like the sound of that, boyfriend.”

“Good. All I want. Well, and to crack the roster,” Thomas says, smiling, 

Colin makes an offended noise, grumbling as he slides his body over to reach the tissues without actually getting out of bed. Once they’re cleaned up and back in underwear, Thomas arranges Colin to his liking. He cuddles up behind him, one arm wrapped around his waist and the other awkwardly tucked between their bodies. 

“Seriously though, I know we can’t know what’s going to happen. But I really want you and this. I promise not to drop off again if I don’t get my way.”

“I know, babe. I wouldn’t have said yes if I didn’t believe that.”

Thomas smiles into his neck. Kissing the tender skin and breathing in his scent. He smells like sweat and soap but mostly like Colin. Thomas would trade everything in the world for this moment.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll add my hockey tumblr after author reveals and I hope you all enjoyed!!


End file.
